


The Storm Is Coming Soon

by AshesStarsAndRedStringsOfFate



Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Beast Wirt, Blood and Gore, Chaotic Neutral Little Shit Bill, Demon Summoning, Demonic Possession, Dipper's In Love, Don't Post To Another Site, Dorks in Love, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Human Bill Cipher, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, M/M, Panic Attacks, Poetry, Supportive Mabel Pines, The Author Regrets Nothing, Wirt is Such A Dork, evil author
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2019-10-21 20:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17649230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshesStarsAndRedStringsOfFate/pseuds/AshesStarsAndRedStringsOfFate
Summary: No one actually cared about Wirt, and he knew it. Oh, how wrong he was.Please heed the tags, guys, this story will get darker than it starts.





	1. In which: Wirt has a Very Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for nothing

The sound of heavy breathing the only sound registering in his ears, the new Beast crashed through the Unknown, warm wet tracks of sorrow streaming down his cheeks as he fled from the terrified eyes of his brother. He was a monster, he should have hid it better, now Greg hated him and he needed to get as far away as possible before he made Greg hate him even more-

 

He yelped as he stumbled over a root, crashing face-first into the forest floor. His pointed red hat rolled off his head and came to a rest within his eyeline, causing him to tear up even more. Halloween. It was all the fault of that stupid holiday that Greg had wanted him to participate in. That stupid, wonderful holiday. What was his mom going to think? What was Sara going to think? She’d probably be too busy being part of a stupid happy couple with Jason Funderberker to even notice that Wirt had vanished. No one else would care either. No one actually cared about Wirt, and he knew it.

 

He sniffed and picked up his hat, fixing it between his new antlers, and kept running, ignoring the distant calls of his name behind him. They didn’t care anymore, they hated him, he _scared_ them, he needed to get away _now_.

 

A tug in his gut caused him to pause, nausea rolling through him. He didn’t want to follow this tug, he wanted to keep running, but the tug was getting stronger and stronger and he couldn’t deal with it right now, he needed to just _get away_ -

 

He dug his heels into the ground and grabbed hold of a branch, trying to take a moment to breathe and anchor himself. That tug was getting stronger and he needed all his focus to fight it. He had almost managed to fight off the tug entirely, only the faintest traces of it still dancing along his consciousness, when a snapped branch behind him caused him to whirl around. A hunter stood, shocked, staring at him with raised crossbow. He flinched, remember the new antlers and the glowing eyes that clearly gave away his inhuman nature. He raised a hand to console the hunter that he was not dangerous to her, but with nary a second’s delay, she fired her crossbow right into his chest. All of his concentration vanished in an instant, pain becoming his entire being, as he stumbled backward, gasping and coughing as the crossbow bolt lodged itself deeper into his sternum. He stumbled back, tears renewing themselves as the huntress raised her crossbow, newly loaded. He was going to die he was going to die _he was going to_ **_die_ **.

 

Just as the bolt was released, he was yanked viciously under the surface, falling down down down to where the tug had originated from. He closed his eyes, allowing his tears to fall, as he surrendered himself to the darkness clouding his eyes, promising escape from the pain gripping both his chest and his heart.

* * *

 

“Why isn’t this working?” Ford groused, glaring at the summoning circle that had stopped glowing. Dipper shrugged, closing the book and turning away. Some of the summoning circles and chants were wrong, as they’d discovered before. It seemed like this was another one of them. They’d check later to see if one of the other ones was correct, but for now, Dipper was looking forward to a quiet afternoon of writing and puzzles.   

 

A cold, vicious wind ripped through Dipper’s flannel and he stumbled back, spinning around to stare at the once-again-glowing circle with fire and a small wind tunnel coming out of it. Ford backed up, eyes wide, as he grabbed Dipper’s arm to brace him against the strong winds. Dipper stared as black tree branches dripping oil curled up out of the ground around the circle. What kind of being had they summoned?

 

With a large, final flare, the lights and wind stopped, leaving only a dark heap in the centre of the circle. Dipper stepped forward cautiously, the words to a restraining spell already on his lips. The lump made a noise– somewhere between a groan, a whine, and a whimper– and Dipper dropped his guard just a bit. No other demon had ever made that noise. It almost sounded… human. The lump rolled over, and Dipper’s blood ran cold as he took in the sight before him. A human boy around his age with messy brown hair lay there, branches of the trees surrounding the circle sprouting from his temples. His glowing eyes swirled yellow, pink, and blue in a dizzying spiral that never seemed to settle. What made Dipper’s insides freeze, however, was the crossbow bolt lodged deep into the centre of his chest. Dark red blood tinged with black oil oozed out at an alarming rate as he coughed and shuttered, tears tinged with oil oozing down his face as well. He coughed, that same strange blood splattering out of his mouth onto the ground below him. His eyes finally met Dipper’s, and he let out a very clear whimper before rasping “Help… me…”

 

Dipper jumped into action at that. “Grunkle Ford! Get the med kit!” Dipper dashed into the circle and slid to a stop next to the boy, his hands flitting around frantically. “Okay, it’s okay, everything will be fine, I need you to stay with me, you’ll be fine.” The boy coughed and tried to skitter away from Dipper, but he was too weak to even twitch a muscle.

 

“Dipper, we need to get him down to my lab. I can actually do something down there,” Grunkle Ford murmured from right behind Dipper, placing a hand on his shoulder. Dipper sniffed and nodded before murmuring an apology to the boy and picking him up. He screamed, at once both high and pained and low and guttural. Dipper almost dropped him in fear, but he held on, not wanting to cause the boy any more pain. With his grip firm and adjusted properly to the boy’s (surprisingly) thin frame, Dipper began to walk to Ford’s lab, murmuring soft reassurances the entire way to the boy. He kept crying no matter what Dipper said, probably because of the pain, and Dipper dropped a light kiss onto his forehead in an attempt to offer some form of comfort. This just caused the boy to cry even harder.

 

“Don’t… don’t leave me, Dad… I’ll be good… Please don’t leave…” he sobbed, trying to curl into an even smaller ball. Dipper shushed him and pulled him closer as Ford opened the entrance to his lab.

 

“Hey, I’m not going to leave you, don’t worry,” Dipper soothed, even though on the inside he was screaming with anxiety. What was he supposed to do to help this person?! He was clearly possessed by a demon, and that wasn’t helping him heal from that nasty hit to the chest at all! Plus, he was crying, and Dipper hated when people cried. What was he supposed to do?!

 

Luckily for Dipper’s sanity and stability, they quickly reached the lab, and Dipper dumped the boy on the table before running for the med kit while Ford got to work on stabilizing the boy. Dipper slid the medkit over to Ford once he found it, causing Ford to nod. “Okay, kid, grab his hips. We’re going to need to keep him still.” Dipper’s eyes widened as he saw Ford’s hand wrapped around the shaft of the bolt while the other one pinned the boy’s shoulders to the table. He quickly grabbed onto the kids hips to keep his torso still, and on the count of three, Ford ripped the bolt out of his sternum. Dipper winced at the screams but held on as Ford got to work magically dressing the wound.

 

“Dipper! It’s dressed, but I need you to grab that sedative! We can’t have him screaming during the rest of this!” Ford yelled. Dipper nodded and leaned over to grab the sedative vial. Then, with a countdown from Ford, he injected the contents into the boy’s arm, a bit surprised at how tough his skin was. The boy slowly stopped thrashing and screaming, his glowing colourful eyes rolling back into his skull as he fell limp. Ford sighed in relief and set about internally sealing the wounds.

 

“Is he going to be okay?” Dipper whispered, a little shaken up from the ordeal. Ford looked over at Dipper with dim, haunted eyes.

 

“I don’t know. Physically, most likely. Mentally, however?” Ford turned to look at the boy with sad eyes. “That remains to be seen.”


	2. In Which: Wirt wakes up to A Cute Boy and Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wirt Awakens to a Cute Boy, Wirt Is An Idiot, and We Meet the Pines (and Bill)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads-up, this chapter has non-descriptive vomit. You've been warned. 
> 
> Also, yes, my Bill is a semi-redeemed mostly-depowered Chaotic Neutral Little Shit. As requested by my boyfriend and approved by me. 
> 
> Enjoy this trash. If you think this is bad... just wait.

Wirt groaned, waking up to a cold back and cold limbs and a raging fire in his chest and head. The last he remembered, he had fallen asleep in a heap on the boat in the Unknown… after almost drowning… when he was looking for Greg… 

 

“Greg!” Wirt yelled, bolting upright before immediately screaming in pain as  _ something  _ in his chest moves in the wrong way. His arms slam into the table and he locks his elbows in place, forcing himself to stay sitting up. His arms are trembling, his torso was on fire, and he wanted nothing more than to collapse but he refused. He needed to find Greg, he needed to protect him, he needed to get him back  _ home _ \- 

 

“Whoa whoa whoa, calm down! Lay back, it’s okay, calm down!” a new voice yelped, high and panicked. Wirt forced his eyes to focus (the lights were too bright) and he saw an adorable, handsome dark-haired boy a year or two older than him, hazel eyes blown wide in panic. He sprinted over and gently grabbed Wirt’s shoulders before guiding him back down, murmuring empty reassurances the whole time. Wirt made a noise of displeasure in the back of his throat and tried to sit up again, causing the handsome guy to freak out again. “Nonono, just lay down, I promise, you’ll feel better-” 

 

“Where am I?” Wirt rasped out, pushing himself back up as he forced himself to meet the boy’s eyes. “Where’s Greg? What happened?” 

 

“Um… you’re in the basement of the Mystery Shack. We summoned you, and you had an arrow in your chest, so we got it out and fixed you up. And… I don’t know a Greg, sorry,” the boy rambled off, wincing in apology. Wirt gave a shaky smile back, feeling so awkwardly out of his depth that it wasn’t even funny. 

 

“Oh, that- that’s fine. T-thank you, for, you know, not letting me die,” Wirt mumbled, picking at the skin around his nails. The boy just smiled back, relief oozing into the air around him, as he chirped back “No problem!” which relaxed Wirt to no end. 

 

“Erm, um, I’m… I’m Wirt. Who are you?” 

 

“I’m Dipper. Nice to meet you, Wirt,” the boy replied, reaching out a hand for a handshake. Wirt took it, gave it one, two, three pumps, and released, bringing his legs in towards his chest. 

 

“So… how did you summon me?” Wirt asked, tilting his head to the side only slightly, yet he almost toppled off the table. Dipper lunged and caught him, and Wirt ran a hand through his hair, exploring what heavy object was on his head. The tips of his fingers brushed something wooden and he froze. 

 

“Um… we summoned you in a demon summoning circle. Because you’re, you know, a demon?” Wirt’s breathing picked up, a terrifying presto, his heart competing with his lungs for fastest possible tempo in human history. His hands clutched his too-spiky-too-hard hair and  _ tugged _ , yet he barely felt it. 

 

“Whoa, Wirt, calm down! Can you match my breathing, please?” Dipper yelped, grabbing Wirt’s wrists and yanking them away from his hair. Wirt started crying, his tears feeling far too thick, viscous, unnatural to be his tears. Dipper didn’t flinch, however, at what had to be awful tears, and just kept breathing, slow, exaggerated, perfectly in tempo. Wirt tried to latch onto it, tried to ground himself, but it wasn’t working, he needed to do something with his hands- 

 

“Anxiety plushie, here,” Dipper babbled, shoving something soft and squishy into his arms. Wirt eagerly grabbed it, squeezed it against his chest, and then tried yet again to match Dipper’s breathing. This time, his lungs fell into sync with Dipper’s and he was able to get his breathing, and eventually heart rate, under control. He looked up at Dipper after he was calmer, biting his lip and wincing as he tasted clearly-not-human blood. 

 

“Th-thank you, Dipper… I’m sorry for panicking,” Wirt whispered. Dipper shook his head in response, standing up and sticking a hand out. 

 

“No, don’t apologize, Wirt! Come on, I think you’ll feel better after some food.” Wirt took his hand and stood, still clutching the plush raccoon to his chest. Dipper beamed and steered him towards the stairs, hand resting on the small of Wirt’s back to support him. When they reached the door, Dipper paused to look at Wirt in the dim light, eyes wide. 

 

“I promise you, no matter what it looks like, no one in this house is going to hurt you. Okay?” Wirt nodded slowly, confusion and fear bubbling in his stomach. With that, Dipper kicked open the door and strolled out into the kitchen, Wirt carefully trailing behind him. 

 

“Dipdop! Is he feeling better?” a bright, bubbly female voice burst out as a blur of pink barreled into Dipper’s side. Wirt yelped and clutched the raccoon closer, but Dipper merely sighed, bracing himself and catching the pink blur. 

 

“Yes, Mabel, he is. Please don’t attack me again,” Dipper intoned. The pink blur, most likely Mabel, detached herself from Dipper, giggling, before spinning to pull Wirt into a tight hug. He yelped and tried to push back, only to fail in the strong grip of his attacker. She pulled back after a minute, brown eyes wide and sparkling with glee. 

 

“I’m Mabel! What’s your name, cutie?” Wirt blinked, confused, but some voice told him that he should reply, as it was the polite thing to do. 

 

“Er… Wirt. I’m… I’m Wirt.” Mabel cheered and grabbed his hand, yanking him over to the table before making him sit. 

 

“Hi, Wirt! I’m making spaghetti and red sauce, I hope you like it! It’ll be ready in a minute, so just sit here and relax, okay?” Wirt nodded, overwhelmed and more than a little confused, but did as she asked, Dipper sitting down next to him. Mabel set a steaming pot of glutenous goodness in the middle of the table before setting a smaller pot of bubbling red sauce next to it. A couple of thumps, and then two almost-identical-looking older men walked into the room, sitting down across from Dipper and Wirt. 

 

“Looks like you survived, kid. I’m Stanford Pines, but you can just call me Ford,” the one in the turtleneck sweater drawled, sticking out a hand. Wirt gently reached across the table to shake his hand, still on-edge. Ford nodded sharply and released his hand before ladling out his dinner. 

 

“And I’m Stanley Pines, nice to meet you,” the one in the tank top added, smiling at Wirt. He smiled back awkwardly and waved as Dipper started to fix his own plate. 

 

“Wait, where’s Bill? He needs to meet Bill,” Mabel piped up. Ford’s face soured a bit, as did Stanley’s, but Dipper sighed and tipped back in his chair, cupping his hands around his mouth. 

 

“William Cipher, get down here if you want food!” Dipper yelled. A couple seconds passed before a loud thump, a yelp, and scrambling noises came from upstairs, and only a few seconds later, a yellow-and-black-clad man burst through the door, panting. 

 

“Dipper Pines, don’t you dare starve me!” the new person shrieked, singular golden eye flashing. Dipper rolled his eyes and gestured to the spot next to him, which the blonde huffily plopped down into, scooping himself some pasta before practically dousing it with sauce. 

 

“Oh, Bill, this is Wirt. Wirt, this is Bill, our resident semi-reformed dream demon,” Dipper introduced before shoving a forkful of spaghetti in his mouth. The blonde blinked before looking Wirt up and down, eyes widening in comprehension. 

 

“Word of advice? Don’t touch the sauce. There’s meat in it. Otherwise, welcome fellow demon, I am here for all of your demony needs,” the blonde rattled off before turning to his own plate. Wirt nodded and simply topped the spaghetti with parmesan and no sauce before digging in. 

 

It turns out, that too had been a mistake, as the bite he had just taken came right back up and he curled into a ball, insides violently protesting the wretched material he had just tried to put into his body. Dipper’s chair shot back as he sprinted over to Wirt, grabbing him and trying to help him get his body back under control. 

 

“Huh. All animal products are out, then. Looks like we need to buy vegan food, Pine Tree,” Bill commented, voice perfectly blasé. Stanley looked about ready to strangle the dream demon, Mabel was on the verge of tears, and Ford looked as if he were formulating a plan. Dipper carefully took Wirt’s plate, scraped it outside for the wild animals to eat, and filled a new plate, lightly salting it before placing it in front of him again. 

 

“This is also egg-free pasta, Mabel made it earlier, so it should be fine,” Dipper whispered. Wirt swallowed, grateful for Dipper’s assistance yet humiliated at his weakness, and carefully took a small bite. Thankfully, this one stayed down, and the rest of the meal continued with amicable chatter while Wirt stayed silent, contemplating his new existence and new circumstances and worrying about Greg. He needed to find his brother and get him home, no matter what. 

 

After dinner, Dipper stood, gently pulling Wirt up with him. “I’ll show you your room, okay? You need rest.” Wirt didn’t argue and allowed himself to be shown to a small, cozy room at the end of the hall, walls barren and closet empty. 

 

“Get some sleep, Wirt. Bill’s next door, and I’m across the hall if you need anything,” Dipper offered before pulling the door shut behind him. Wirt carefully sat down on the bed and looked up at the mirror, breath catching in his throat as he finally saw what he now looked like. He… he looked absolutely monstrous, with long, twisting branch-like antlers sprouting on either side of his head, eyes glowing faintly of pastel pink-blue-yellow, and too-sharp teeth and too-stiff hair. He… he looked like the Beast. And that is when the tears began to fall, thick and black as oil, yet another reminder of his inhumanity. He cried until he had no tears left to shed, until he was too tired to sit up, until he was so tired that dreams came for him, and he gave up the fight, hoping against all hope that this was all just a bad dream and that he would wake up, in his bed back home, and Greg would be safe. He knew that was not true at all, but he could always hope. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts! I would love to hear them. 
> 
> Now, time to vanish for another couple months to plan more horrible ways to torment Wirt... Bye~
> 
> ~Logan


	3. In Which: Wirt Has a Dream and Tells A Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Wirt Has A Bad Dream, Dipper Is Actually Cool, and Wirt and Dipper Bond (Over Tea)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long, I'm working on two Big Bang pieces for another fandom. 
> 
> I wrote this on the plane back from Germany, so I hope you like it!

Dipper knew something was wrong the moment he woke up the next morning. He quickly checked around his room to find nothing out of place. Mabel was sleeping soundly in the other bed, her side of the room also undisturbed. Dipper slipped out of bed and tiptoed to check on the other inhabitants of the house, determined to find what was so wrong in the house. 

 

Grunkle Stan was sleeping soundly, muttering something about how evil taxes were. Dipper promptly decided that he did not wish to know more and that Grunkle Stan was clearly fine, closing the door and going to check on Grunkle Ford. 

 

Ford was fast asleep as well, twitching faintly, but that was normal. Dipper carefully closed the door, not wanting to wake Ford who was a very light sleeper, and tiptoed to check on Bill. Bill, it turned out, was also okay, sitting on his bed and reading. He looked up when Dipper cracked open the door and gave a cheeky wave. Dipper waved back and closed the door again, taking a moment to think. Something was wrong, but everyone in the house was fine. What could possibly be wrong? 

 

The answer become obvious the second Dipper noticed dark, oily branches snaking out from under the door across the hall from his room. Wirt. Something was wrong with Wirt. Without a thought for his own safety, Dipper threw open the door to Wirt’s room, only to freeze at the sight. 

 

Tree branches protruded from every inch of Wirt’s skin, coiling around him and growing towards the ceiling. His antlers had turned thorny, dripping what appeared to be black oil all over the room. Those same black oily thorns were growing from every surface of the room, almost spilling out into the hallway. In the centre of it all, Wirt was curled into a ball sobbing his eyes out, clearly in the throes of a terrible nightmare. 

 

Dipper strode over and grasped Wirt’s shoulders, ignoring the thorns stabbing into his hands, and gently shook him. “Hey, Wirt? It’s just a dream. You’re okay.” Wirt merely whimpered in reply and curled up tighter. Dipper shook him again, a bit harder this time. “Wirt, for real, it’s safe. Wake up.” 

 

“You could have called,” Bill drawled from the doorway. Dipper turned to stare down the dream demon, eyes pleading. 

 

“Help him,” Dipper rasped. Bill nodded and strode forward, frowning as he took in Wirt’s state, before his eyes lit up. 

 

“I know what to do.” Bill placed his index and middle fingers together, blew on them, and then placed them on Wirt’s forehead. His eye lit up bright gold, and Wirt shot awake, gasping like a drowning man coming up for air. 

 

“Do you know where you are?” Dipper asked. Wirt’s head snapped around, eyes wide and terrified. After a moment, he nodded, lanky frame beginning to tremble. 

 

“That was a hell of a nightmare, kid. Sure you don’t need therapy?” Bill asked. 

 

“Bill. Not. Helping,” Dipper hissed. 

 

The demon shrugged. “What? Sugarcoating won’t help.” 

 

“I… I don’t know what my dream was about… did I make all these plants appear?” Wirt asked, voice weak and shaky as he slowly uncurled from his ball. Dipper and Bill looked at each other for a moment before Dipper answered. 

 

“We… we think so, yeah. It’s okay, we’ll just need to figure out if the plants are toxic or not.” 

 

One of the vines coiled around Wirt’s arm, and his eyes widened. “They’re not, um… they’re edelwood.” 

 

“Edelwood? I’ve never heard of it.” 

 

“It’s a tree native to the Unknown. It’s, um, made with… human souls.” 

 

Dipper blinked, a tad nauseous. “Oh. That’s… oh.” 

 

“It won’t harm you!” Wirt reassured, smile more fragile than that glass unicorn Ford had bought Mabel for her last birthday. “I can make it go away?” 

 

“Please,” Bill answered, standing up and brushing off his Nighttime Sweater. “That would be great.” Wirt nodded and closed his eyes, concentrating for a moment, before all the dark plants began to dissolve back within Wirt. Dipper watched in fascinated horror, a nasty picture beginning to come together in his mind about Wirt’s power set and demonic heritage. 

 

“What time is it?” Wirt asked after the plants had all vanished, looking much better than he had only moments before. Dipper pulled out his phone and checked. 

 

“It’s 3 am.” 

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry to wake you-” 

 

“Relax, I don’t sleep and Pine Tree’s an insomniac,” Bill said, waving his hand dismissively. “Plus, it’s perfectly natural to have nightmares. No need to apologize.” 

 

“What Bill said. While you’re awake, would you like me to make some tea or hot cocoa?” Dipper just wanted an excuse to get out of this room. Even though Wirt hadn’t done anything on purpose, a strange atmosphere had settled over the room, and Dipper was getting very creeped out by it. 

 

“Tea, please.” Wirt stood and stretched, the sound of his joints popping reminiscent of the snapping of tree bark. Dipper nodded and also stood, walking out of the room into the kitchen to make tea. Bill went back to his room to read, and Wirt followed Dipper, looking for all the world like a normal teenager who just happened to have horns and strange, glowing, multicoloured eyes. 

 

“So, I have a couple questions?” 

 

“Go ahead. I’ll answer if I can?” Wirt sat at the table, fidgeting with his fingers, as Dipper began to boil some water for tea. 

 

“That’s fine. Who’s Greg?” 

 

“My… my younger brother. He, um… we’ve been through a lot together.” Wirt seemed sad talking about him. “He thinks I’m a monster now, though.” 

 

“Well, you’re not, so that’s his loss,” Dipper insisted, pouring the now-boiling water into mugs. “What kind of tea do you like?” 

 

“Green, please.” Dipper grabbed two bags of green tea before walking over to the table, setting the tree mug in front of Wirt while keeping the Ravenclaw mug for himself. 

 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” 

 

“Getting shot in the chest.” Wirt rubbed his chest. “It… was not fun.” 

 

“I’d imagine,” Dipper replied dryly. “Final one for now: have you always been a demon?” 

 

“No. I just became one less than a day ago.” 

 

“How’d that happen?” Dipper leaned forward, taking a long sip of boiling tea. 

 

“It’s a long story…” Wirt wrapped his spidery hands around the mug. 

 

“I’ve got time.”

 

Wirt took a deep breath before meeting Dipper’s eyes, his own glowing softly. “Alright then. It all started on Halloween night…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think! See you next time! 
> 
> ~Q

**Author's Note:**

> I still apologize for nothing. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Feel free to scream at me in the comments, and I hope you all come back for next chapter! 
> 
> ~Logan


End file.
